


Things Remembered

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (with a little spiciness at the end), F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, High Octane Fluff, in which a gondola nearly gets rocked (if you know what I mean)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 08:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: Extension of XIII - “Shadows of the Past.” Asra answers some of Shayara’s burning questions about who she was before. Spoilers for this chapter, obviously.





	Things Remembered

Shayara sighs contentedly, snuggling into Asra’s side as the fireworks burst overhead.

She learned not an hour ago that she had suffered a horrible death; how odd, then, that she has never been so happy. To know that in these three years that she’s pined for him, Asra has always loved her back–has loved her longer still, so deeply that half of his heart had seemed a fair bargain for her life–fills her with such joy that she feels her own heart may burst at any moment!

Oh, what could she possibly have done to deserve this? To deserve  _him_ , this sweet, beautiful creature so full of love that even death itself could only yield to its force? Surely she could not have earned such devotion.

Or had she?

“Am I different now?” she asks quietly, a niggling thread of anxiety creeping into her mind. “Is… is that why you’re always leaving me? Because I look like her–the woman you loved–but I’m not–”

Asra shushes her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re not different in any way that matters,” he says vehemently, holding her tight. “I only left you because…” His throat bobs as he swallows. “I left when it became too hard to hide my feelings from you. To keep myself from taking advantage of what I suspected you felt for me.

“I wouldn’t have wanted you like that,” he continues before Shayara can protest that taking a little advantage would have been quite welcome, indeed. “Not when I was all you’d ever known.”

Oh, her darling Asra. Had anyone ever lived who was so very,  _frustratingly_ good? She buries her face in his neck, the steady thrum of the pulse there reminding her anew of the extraordinary lengths to which he’s gone so they can be together again.

“How  _am_ I different?” she asks, unable to contain her curiosity.

Asra is silent for a moment. “Hmm,” he says, twining their fingers together pensively. “You’re… more cautious now, I think. A bit less sure of yourself than you were when… well, when you  _knew_  yourself. But no matter,” he says, bringing their hands to his lips and kissing each of her fingertips in turn. “You’re still the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met. Not even death could take that from you.”

Shayara smiles, squeezing his hand fondly. “Tell me how I was. Before. If I feel a headache coming on, I’ll stop you, I promise,” she says quickly.

Asra bites his lip, seeming to weigh the risks. But he relents. “You were… confident. And an absolutely  _shameless_ flirt,” he teases, nipping at her nose as she giggles. “Let’s see… You’ve always loved animals.” He laughs. “In fact, when we first met, I think you were more taken with Faust than with me.”

“Well, that makes sense, because she’s adorable.”

Asra chuckles, cuddling her closer. He falls silent again, his violet gaze turned skyward. “You loved to dance. And sing! You sang so beautifully,” he says, a dazzling smile lighting his face. “I was enraptured by every note.”

“I can  _sing_?”

“Like a nightingale,” Asra assures her. “And you were an  _excellent_ cook.”  
  
“Oh, you’re just telling me what you think I want to hear!” Shayara scolds, swatting him lightly on the chest.

“I would never lie about all the reasons why you’re wonderful,” Asra says with a fierce sincerity that makes her blush.

Feeling terribly bashful, Shayara changes the subject. “And… my aunt? What of her? You said that our shop belonged to her.”

Asra bites his lip again, and Shayara knows.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Asra nods.

“Did she die in the plague?”

“She did,” Asra confirms. After ensuring that no headache is coming on, he sighs deeply and continues. “Your Aunt Vee raised you. She was… a force to be reckoned with. Beautiful and clever, just like you. Strict at times, but oh, she loved you. Anyone could see that you were her whole world.”

“Did I love  _her_?”

“Very much,” Asra says. “She was the main reason you refused to come away with me. She’d fallen ill, and you wouldn’t leave her. You were furious with me for even suggesting it.”

Shayara cannot imagine  _ever_ being furious with Asra. But then, she can neither recall her aunt, nor how she felt for her. Only a blank space exists in her memory where the beloved face should be.

It makes her feel like weeping.

“It seems so wrong, doesn’t it? To have no memory at all of someone who was so dear to me?” She clutches Asra tighter. “Do you think I’ll remember her someday?”

“I hope you will,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Believe me, if I could give it all back to you, I would.”

“I know,” Shayara says, because she does. There is no doubt in her mind that Asra would find a way to fetch down the moon if she asked him for it.

A tender swell of affection chases the sorrow from her heart.

She asks him simpler questions now, silly trifles like whether her favorite color has changed (it hasn’t), what dish of hers had been his favorite (paprikash), and if she’s always been so fond of pumpkin bread (she has). He holds her all the while, each little memory lighting his beautiful face with such joy that she can’t help but share it.

Nor can she help her growing awareness of his body against hers. The lean strength of his arms around her; the velvet softness of his golden skin; the scent of him, a warm, clean fragrance whose individual components she’s never quite been able to place, but which she’s associated with safety and comfort and overwhelming  _desire_ for as long as she can remember.

Her pulse quickens, heat pooling between her legs, and she knows–she  _knows_ –what the answer must be, but she needs to hear it from his lips or she will never know peace.

“Have we made love?”

“Yes,” he says huskily, a flush rising in his cheeks.

“Have we made love in a  _gondola_?”

Asra fixes her with a look that sends a delicious shiver down her spine.

The gondola rocks dangerously as he rolls her beneath him. “We  _haven’t_ ,” he says, eliciting a gasp of delight as he slips a hand under her skirts, his fingers skating teasingly up her leg. “But that’s something we can certainly remedy–”

_Thunk!_

“–at a later time,” Asra finishes, glaring ruefully at the dock pylon they’ve bumped into.

Shayara could scream as he withdraws his hand, but there’s nothing for it: already, people on the dock are staring at them.

“Nothing to see, here,” he tells their would-be observers as he clambers out of the gondola.

Shayara’s cheeks blaze as Asra helps her onto the dock, and she’s not sure whether she’s more embarrassed or disappointed.

 _Disappointed_ , it turns out, as Asra loops an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. “Later,” is the whispered promise as he slides his tongue along the whorl of her ear.

She can hardly wait.


End file.
